


good intentions never good enough

by whyyesitscar



Series: but we're here now [4]
Category: Captain Marvel (2019), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 05:56:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21266171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whyyesitscar/pseuds/whyyesitscar
Summary: This is what she’s been fighting for—the refuge of the house where she feels safest, and the welfare of the women who live inside it. Carol would give up everything to ensure Maria and Monica’s protection, a sentiment that she knows Maria shares. Her life isn’t at all what she thought it would be, but anytime she’s home it’s nothing less than a dream.





	good intentions never good enough

_oh, turn your lamps down low,_  
_keep the light so dim that you can't see_  
_what's out there ahead of you._  
_my dear, there are secrets here—_  
_i will carry them home, carry them home._ **  
**

/

**i. **

Most days, she lives in slow motion.

Perhaps it’s a side effect of her years with the Kree, or just a consequence of being overrun with memories these days. Carol is almost never aware of how she’s fighting when she does it. Her limbs move purely as a reaction; anything she says to Talos or another ally in the moment is forgotten as soon as she says it. She doesn’t need to pay attention to her fighting. Carol can out-fight anyone.

She punches and flies in the present while a reel of flashbacks skips through her mind.

They start short and get longer the more time she spends away from Earth. Lacking consistent daily contact with Maria and Monica, Carol mines the depths of her memory to compensate. She was never a dedicated reader, but there were a few novels she picked up again and again. Her memories evoke a similar feeling after a while, an escape from an unpredictable, anxiety-laden reality.

In the beginning, Carol only remembered the good parts. One of these days she’ll tell Maria how they were the only motivation she had to keep going.

Carol flies back to Louisiana any chance she gets—literally any chance, even if it means hopping between galaxies multiple times a week. She’ll stop in for any meal, any movie, any opportunity for a calm and safe respite. On the occasions when she gets in late and has to leave before morning, Carol makes sure to leave Monica with a memento—another piece of tech, a silly toy, an unusual rock or plant from a favorite planet. The only traces of Carol in the house are still in a box, trinkets and photos that she’s slowly learning how to treasure again. She’s never lived here or made any memories other than leaving. Every gift for Monica and every night with Maria is a remedy.

(They don’t really talk about it much, she and Maria. The first few times it was out of need—suddenly faced with an alternative, Carol found it impossible to sleep alone. Louisiana was too quiet and too loud at the same time; she no longer had the anchor of a spaceship’s quiet hum or the subdued murmurs of a crew that never really sleeps. They were replaced with the drone of a thousand bugs, rattling windows and creaking wood, the occasional chirp of frogs. These were sounds she knew but couldn’t remember, and in the spare room with no one to fight, Carol focused on them until morning. She listened intently, tried to find their rhythm and threw her blankets off when she couldn’t.

Maria asked her why she looked so tired one morning and Carol told her. The next time she was home, Maria invited her to share the bed and explained every sound in soft, measured words until Carol fell asleep.)

In the time between visits, when Carol is desperate for the warmth of home but can’t fly back, she calls Maria and Monica on the communicator she left them. The range is a little bit better than the one she left for Fury, the picture a little cleaner and the connection less staticky. She can never really talk for too long, but a smile from each of them is enough to sustain her for weeks.

And if she calls when they’re sleeping and no one picks up, Carol rings a second communicator, one that Monica doesn’t know about because it lives in Maria’s workshop behind the house**.** This one is voice-only, thrown together very quickly and without the usual bells and whistles. Carol rigs it so she can leave voicemail for Maria, one of the few things from before the crash that she remembered right away. She records messages about everything and nothing that pile up until she’s in range again and Maria can listen.

(Carol doesn’t know that they flood in all at once until Maria tells her. _It’s like a hose sometimes, _she says. _You know, the way you crimp it up to stop the water, and then everything comes pouring out when you let go. I know every time you’re close by because all of a sudden, I’m standing in a puddle._)

Over the course of a few months, Carol tests the reach of the signal. She puts together a list of planets and stars that might be right at the edge, flying to each one and checking to see if the communicator on her wrist starts to blink. It takes a while to pin it down, but on quiet lonely nights, Carol parks herself on a small moon just on the boundary and tries to remember all of the messages Maria will get to listen to now.

She’s been helping the Skrulls and fighting the Kree off-and-on for three years; the charm of it wore off much earlier than that. Carol is dirty and tired most of the time, and that she could handle. But the expectations from everyone—of authority from Talos and the Skrulls; of comfort from Maria and Monica—those are what weigh on her shoulders.

She hasn’t been back to Earth in months, and the last time she was there she barely saw her family. But she sensed a lull in her duties and Talos practically pushed her out of the ship, so she finds herself in a wet alley in Washington, D.C., the sky a beautiful orange and the smell of rain lingering in the air.

Carol shakes off any remnants of space and collapses her suit, adjusting the cuffs of her pants as they unfold. She turns the corner onto the sidewalk, jogging to make the light at the next intersection. Technically she could just fly right into the building, but Carol will always make sure she’s wanted somewhere first.

She rings the buzzer from the stoop, running a hand through her hair as she waits for a response. It comes quicker than she was expecting.

“Sorry, who is it?” It’s probably Sam but it could be Bucky; they’re so hard to distinguish through a speaker.

“It’s Carol.”

“How did you know we’d be home?” (Nope, that’s Bucky.)

“You’re all old and you never go anywhere; let me in.”

Carol _does_ fly up to their apartment after Bucky buzzes her in; she hasn’t walked up a flight of stairs since her time on Hala.

Bucky is waiting at the door. He’s smiling, though Carol is sure his eyes will always look a little haunted. His hair isn’t as grey as it should be (nothing about Bucky is really what it should be) and he looks like he’s pushing fifty instead of ninety. No one’s ever explained anything but Carol’s got an engineering degree; she’s smart. Getting as high as she did in the Air Force, she’s heard the tales of the Howling Commandos. When Peggy introduced her to Sam and Bucky, who both look a good twenty years younger than she does, it didn’t take long for Carol to come to the right conclusion. Bucky Barnes was born in 1917 and here he is eighty one years later, looking nothing like an eighty-one-year-old. Sometimes people come back from the dead after six years with superpowers, alien blood, and an infinite lifespan; she can roll with it. Carol is perfectly fine not asking questions.

But god, she has a lot of them.

Bucky gives her a quick hug, bracing his hands on her shoulders before letting her loose. “How you doin’, Cap? Tired of space yet?”

Carol scoffs. “I’ve been tired of space for almost a decade. But I’m doing alright.”

“Beer, soda, water—you want anything?”

“Just my favorite geezer, if he’s around.”

Bucky smiles and grabs two glasses from a cabinet, pouring water in both of them. “He’s been drawing in his office all day; give him one of these and make him drink both if you don’t want the other.”

Carol takes the glasses from him and floats down the hallway, just because she can. She can feel Bucky rolling his eyes.

Sam is indeed sitting at his desk drawing, his back stick straight and his hair neatly slicked back. Carol hovers for a moment and considers him; she can almost see him as Captain America if she looks hard enough. It would have been nice, she thinks a little sadly, to have been able to fight alongside him.

“Just because you’re floating doesn’t mean I don’t know you’re there,” Sam says without turning around.

“Do you have super-hearing or something?” Carol watches him, waits for him to give the slightest clue that he’s actually Steve Rogers, super-soldier and forgotten hero of World War II.

He tenses his shoulders for just a moment. (There it is).

“You’re not as quiet as you think you are,” he eventually says. “Heard you in the kitchen with Bucky.” Sam turns around with a smile and ink stains on his fingers, smudging them as she passes him a glass of water. “Did you just fly in?”

“Dropped in, more like.”

“That explains the hair.” Carol reaches up to fix it instinctively. “Only kidding,” Sam grins.

“I’ll hit an old man; don’t think I won’t.”

“You Rambeaus are so violent.” Carol tries and fails to suppress a blush. “Maria threatened to push me out of a plane once.”

“That plane was stationary,” Carol retorts, rolling her eyes. “You’d have been fine.”

“Probably. You can sit down, you know; I’m afraid this room doesn’t have terribly high ceilings.”

Carol hovers just a second longer, then lets herself fall onto the loveseat with enough force to send the cushions bouncing. “What are your plans for when Peggy retires?”

“We’ll move out of state, maybe near some mountains. I think I’d like to live in the middle of nowhere.”

“I thought you were a city boy,” Carol pushes.

“In a past life, maybe.” (He’s doing this on purpose, Carol knows it.) “The great outdoors seem as good an adventure as any right now.”

“That’s what I thought about Louisiana,” Carol scoffs, “and then the bugs hit in the summer.”

Sam laughs and leans back in his chair (about as much relaxing as his military manners will allow him). “I think I can handle it.” He folds his hands across his stomach. “How are your girls?”

Carol’s face instantly flushes. “Uhh…”

“I hope it doesn’t bother you if I say things like that. I can stop.”

She shakes her head. “No, it’s—I’m...not used to hearing it? Maybe I was before,” Carol shrugs. “Now there’s just a lot that Maria and I still have to figure out.”

“There is?”

“Are you genuinely asking or is this about to be a grandfatherly lecture?”

Sam smiles and gets up, shaking his coat from its hanger in the closet. “Come on. Let’s go for a walk.”

“Fuck.”

.

“The Supreme Court?”

“Indulge me for a second,” Sam says as he sits on the steps.

Carol doesn’t snark back at him; she doesn’t make a crack about how maybe he shouldn’t sit down just in case he can’t get back up. But she _definitely _thinks it.

“Okay,” she says as she sits down next to him.

It’s almost dark by now, and the city is no less imposing at night. Now that she’s here, it weighs on her shoulders the same way the universe does when she’s away. Sam’s hair is short and neatly styled. It barely moves in the breeze, something she can’t say for herself.

“Why’d you join the Air Force?” Sam asks.

Carol shrugs. “Wanted to get away from my dad and I’ve loved planes my whole life. It seemed like a no-brainer.”

“If you could go back in time and do it all over, would you still enlist?”

“Absolutely,” she immediately replies. It’s another no-brainer—without the Air Force, Maria and Monica would be absent from Carol’s life. The two of them more than make up for anything else she’d love to erase. “Even with the crash, and all the shit that happened before—it all got me to where I am now, and I can’t imagine me being anywhere else.”

“With Maria and Monica, or with the Skrulls?”

“Both.”

Sam nods and turns to look at the building behind them. “Peggy played a big part in designing the Triskelion and she had one non-negotiable rule for it.”

“That it be aggressively taller than every other building in the city?”

“No,” Sam smiles. “That there should never be a designated room for sleeping anywhere in the building.”

Carol frowns. “I’ve slept there before.”

“And gotten yelled at for it every time, I’m sure.” Leaning forward, with his arms resting on his knees, this is the most relaxed posture she’s seen Sam adopt. “The Supreme Court is a residence, too. If you’re appointed to the bench, you’re there for life in more ways than one.”

“Okay.”

“I’ve been alive for a pretty long time, and I’ve seen my share of governments and leaders come and go. That sense of duty and allegiance they were selling when you enlisted, did you feel it?”

“Sure.”

“Do you still?”

“I guess.”

He smiles again. “It’s a load of horse shit.”

Carol can’t help the laugh that bursts out of her. “Hold on, wait a minute. You can’t honestly think that, you’re C—you’re the poster boy for patriotism,” she corrects.

“Maybe I used to be,” Sam says, shaking his head. “But I’m not who you think I am anymore.” He waits a moment as the wind gusts. “Do you love Maria?”

He turns to look at her and won’t let her look away. “Of course,” she replies. “The only time I’m jealous of you is when I see you with Peggy. I want it so bad I could burn up the moon.”

“You’ve got it, Carol. Everything else is just a job.” He wraps an arm around her shoulders; Carol relaxes after a few moments. “Anyone could do it, you know. Just because it’s you doing it now doesn’t mean you have to. Your only responsibility is you.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“Yeah, so listen to me when I say it.” He shakes her shoulder until she laughs. “I thought finding Peggy was going to be complicated and hard. But all you have to do is be there.”

Carol stands up, extending a hand for Sam to follow her. They both know he can get up perfectly fine, but he takes it anyway. “I guess I’ll go then,” she says, brushing the wrinkles out of his jacket.

“Call me in a couple of days if you want to talk about it.”

“Oh, I want to talk about a lot of things with you.” She gives him a wink and a wave before he has the chance to say anything else, and rockets up into the clouds.

Sam watches her go until she can’t see him anymore.

.

Louisiana is just as windy as DC when she lands (in the front yard this time, because she shouldn’t always be a surprise). The lights are on in the kitchen and the front room; Maria and Monica are probably in the middle of making dinner. They tease her all the time about showing up right before a meal, but it mostly really has been luck.

It doesn’t take long for Maria to answer the door after Carol knocks.

“You keep losing your key or something?” she smirks.

“Oh!” Carol pats down her pockets, finally landing on the one that has her key. “I genuinely forgot I had one.”

“I gave it to you over a year ago.”

“You definitely did, and I will for sure use it from now on.”

“I’ll hold you to it.” Maria steps onto the porch and pulls Carol into a hug. Carol immediately burrows herself into Maria’s neck.

“Listen, I don’t want to make this a big deal or anything,” she says, a little muffled, “but I kind of love you.”

Maria tenses for just a moment before squeezing a little tighter and pressing a kiss to Carol’s cheek. She pulls away and kisses her again, this time on the lips, soft and quick.

“You’re an idiot,” Maria smiles. “And I love you, too.”

“Well.” Carol guides them both inside the house and closes the door. “There you go, then.” She lets Maria push her against the sturdy wood and kiss her the way Carol’s been thinking about for months. Seems like Maria has, too.

“Are you done making out yet?” Monica yells from the kitchen. “Your rice is gonna burn, Mom.”

Maria swears and jogs back, Carol only a few steps behind. Monica is standing in front of the stove, reading a book and lazily stirring the pot. Maria takes the spoon from her as Carol scoops her up into a hug.

“You’re a menace,” she laughs, “and entirely too tall.”

Monica squirms out of her grasp, but she also puts her book down with a smile.

Carol couldn’t tell you what they had for dinner, or even what they talked about. But she knows the relief and love that permeate the room will stick with her for a long, long time.

.

Carol is pretty sure it’s a weekend, but they let Monica stay up later than usual either way. They watch a few movies, eat some ice cream, and Carol pulls out a deck of holographic cards and teaches them a game she learned from the Skrull kids. Maria picks it up quickly and wipes the floor with both of them, much to Carol’s frustration.

Around one, Monica starts yawning every time she draws a card. They finish out the hand with promises to pick it up later. Carol stays to clean up while Maria and Monica head upstairs.

“I’ll be back,” Maria murmurs. “I just want to make sure she doesn’t fall asleep with her toothbrush in her mouth.”

“Okay.”

Carol starts doing the dishes, at a regular speed even though she could have them finished in seconds. Maria hates it, but Carol has always found it calming to wash dishes. There is a place for every dish, a method through which to get it there, and a sense of satisfaction when the whole process is over. Plus it makes everything smell clean. If only life were that simple.

“I know you might not think it,” Maria says as she walks back into the kitchen, “but you haven’t changed a bit. I could dirty every dish in this place and you’d still clean them with a smile.”

Carol absently reaches up to touch her cheeks. She hadn’t even realized she was smiling—or maybe she just hasn’t stopped.

“I like it,” she shrugs. “Makes me feel—”

“—like you’ve done something, yeah. I remember. I’m just glad that between you and Monica, I don’t have to do them anymore.”

Carol’s grin widens. “That’s the only thing you’re glad about, huh?”

“Pretty much.” Maria walks around the counter to lean against Carol, scratching the perpetual sore spot on her back. “You come to tonight’s revelation all by yourself?”

“Pretty much,” Carol echoes. “Though Sam helped a little bit. Gave me a speech and everything; I’m surprised there weren’t strings in the background.”

Maria laughs (more of a hum, really) and wraps her arms around Carol’s stomach, resting her chin on her shoulder. “Wanna talk about it?”

Carol turns around, taking care not to wet Maria’s shirt with her soapy hands. “I don’t, actually. We’ve got nothing but time to unpack everything. I just—any time I’m here with you and Monica, I want to just _be_ here.”

“I think that sounds wonderful.”

“That’s what you can thank Sam for.”

“I figured.”

“Hey.” Carol pokes Maria in the side, soap residue be damned. “I thought you were supposed to be on my side.”

“Baby, I’ll be on every part of you that you want me to be,” Maria smirks. Carol leans in for a kiss or six and doesn’t even notice when her elbow knocks a stack of plates into the sink.

This is what she’s been fighting for—the refuge of the house where she feels safest, and the welfare of the women who live inside it. Carol would give up everything to ensure Maria and Monica’s protection, a sentiment that she knows Maria shares. Her life isn’t at all what she thought it would be, but anytime she’s home it’s nothing less than a dream.

Maria pulls away eventually and folds herself against Carol. They stay like that for a while, tired and warm. Maria’s breathing evens out as Carol heats up her hands just a little bit and slides them underneath Maria’s shirt.

“You’re gonna put me to sleep right here,” Maria mumbles.

“Go ahead; I’ll carry you upstairs.”

“Yeah?”

“I carry you everywhere, Maria.”

Maria doesn’t respond so Carol picks her up in a bridal carry and flicks the lights off as she makes her way out of the kitchen.

“I was half-expecting you to sling me over your shoulder,” Maria teases.

“Nah, figured I’d take the opportunity to practice this one. For later.”

“Later?”

“Or sooner.”

“Sooner sounds good.”

They fall asleep almost immediately, curled around each other as close as they can get.

/

**ii.**

Her stays get longer once Keller takes over. She’ll never tell him, but Carol misses when he was Talos, and from the frequency with which he complains, it seems Fury does, too. It’s not that Keller is an incompetent director, but he’s certainly not as fun. (Not that she’ll ever tell Talos that).

They have an apartment in DC now, for long weekends and spring breaks. Bucky stayed when the Carters moved back to New York, insisting that Sam and Peggy deserve some space and time to themselves. Still, they can’t stay away for too long, and every so often their visits overlap with Carol’s. It only takes a few of those for Peggy to wear down Maria into finally taking a steady job at S.H.I.E.L.D. rather than hiding in the freedom of consulting. From the way she tries to sneak into every lab, Carol can tell Monica won’t be far behind.

Carol semi-permanently lives in space; she’s fought and befriended aliens and traveled to more planets and galaxies than she can name. And yet, somehow the fact that they’re now living in the 21st century is the thing she can’t quite wrap her head around.

“It’s the future, Maria,” Carol says, early on a Thursday morning as she throws open the blinds.

“You’re the future,” Maria grumbles. She turns on her other side and stuffs her head under a pillow. The sheets are all bunched around her waist and her legs are sticking out, one of them hanging over the edge of the bed. As deliberate as Maria is when she’s awake, she’s even messier in her sleep.

“Come on, get up.” Carol slaps Maria’s calf a few times, pinching it playfully when Maria groans. “Sam and Peggy are in town and I think Fury wants to have a meeting.”

“Aren’t you ever gonna call him Steve?”

“Why would I? His first name’s Nick.”

“You’re stupid,” Maria says as she throws a pillow.

Carol dodges it easily. “You need coffee. I’m leaving in ten minutes with or without you, Rambeau.”

“You could never leave without me,” Maria retorts.

She’s right.

.

Fury, Sam, and Peggy are already waiting in a conference room by the time Carol and Maria get there. Bucky is a surprise, sitting with his feet up on the table as Fury glares at him.

“Glad you could finally make it,” Fury drawls.

Carol sits down and smiles as sweetly as she can. “Good to see you too, Fury.” She turns her chair toward Bucky. “What happened to hanging out with Monica?”

“I left her with Coulson,” he answers, “just to keep him on his toes.”

“Nice.”

Fury rolls his one good eye. “Are you done?”

“Uh oh, what’s Keller up your ass about this time?”

“He’s not,” Peggy cuts in. “We’re here to discuss a project that Agent Fury has wanted to get off the ground for a while now. Bureaucracy isn’t known for its swiftness, I’m afraid.”

“I wanted to take advantage of the lull we’re currently in,” Fury explains. “There aren’t any active crises and I don’t know when we’ll get this much downtime again. Keller’s given me the go-ahead to start making some pretty significant changes at S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“Like what?”

Fury gives Sam a quick glance. “I’m gonna let Steve handle this one.”

“Oh my god, _finally_,” Maria huffs. She points a finger at Carol. “You owe me a fancy dinner.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Steve laughs, a mischievous glimmer in his eye. “How long were you gonna hold out?”

“No way I was breaking before you, Cap,” Carol answers.

Steve inhales sharply, just for a moment. “God, it’s been almost fifty years since someone’s called me that. Didn’t think I missed it until now.”

“Fifty years?”

Steve folds his hands over the table. “Captain America went missing in ‘45, presumed killed in action after the _Valkyrie_ went down in the Arctic. In my timeline, I woke up sixty six years later when a team of S.H.I.E.L.D. scientists found me in the ice.”

“In your timeline?” Maria interrupts.

“We can dive into it a little later if you want, but the short version of the story is time travel is definitely possible. We had some pretty huge, world-ending events in my time. Once they were over, I traveled back to 1952 and created this timeline.”

“What kind of world-ending events?” Maria presses.

“The kind it takes a team of superheroes to fight,” Steve answers.

Carol looks quickly between Steve and Fury. “Hold on a second,” she says slowly, like a detective finally connecting the dots. “You came here from a separate timeline where you were part of a team of superheroes protecting the world, and then when you got here, you drew a bunch of comics about a superhero team that protects the world.”

“Yep.”

“When did your team get together?”

“Around 2012, but the Avenger Initiative was created a few years earlier than that.”

“Oh my god,” Maria mutters.

“The _Avenger_ Initiative?” Carol blurts. “How many years earlier? Fury, how many years?” He’s resolutely not looking at her and she can’t help the smug grin that spreads across his face. “You big softie,” she teases.

No one says anything, but Carol hears Peggy snicker.

“Other than the obvious,” Maria continues, steering everyone back to business, “what does this have to do with our world?”

“I proposed the Avenger Initiative because Captain Marvel went back to space,” Fury answers. “Hold on, hold on.” He waves a hand at Carol’s very immediate objections. “I’m not blaming you. At that point, no one else was able to give the Skrulls the kind of help you could. Of course you had to go. But your work with them is winding down now, right?”

Carol reaches for Maria’s hand under the table. “I think so,” she replies. “So, what, your project is a changing of the guard?”

“Something like that, yeah,” Steve says. “The S.H.I.E.L.D. I worked for was infiltrated by a H.Y.D.R.A. sleeper cell shortly after my crash. That was the catalyst for a whole mess of problems that eventually led to half the universe getting wiped out. I can’t change everything about this world—and I don’t want to—but Peggy and I were at least able to prevent that from happening. I’m not entirely sure, but I’d bet good money that the Avengers I know won’t actually form now.”

“But you still want some kind of Avengers to form,” Carol intuits. “How’d it happen for your team?”

Steve leans back in his chair, smiling. “Have you ever actually read my comics, Carol?”

“Oh,” she blushes. “No?”

“Get the rundown from Monica later.”

“Okay.”

“Given everything that Steve’s shared,” Fury explains, “we thought it might be a good idea to get a jump on whatever evil aliens or scientists or gods are looking for a fight. That means finding individuals with enhanced powers now and bringing them on board. We want the three of you to lead the team.”

“The three of us?”

Bucky raises his hand. “Sergeant Gramps, reporting for duty.”

“Bucky isn’t complete unless he’s babysitting a scrappy kid who can’t resist starting fights,” Steve jokes.

“You found someone already?”

“It’s you, baby,” Maria murmurs.

“Oh, ha ha. I only start fights that need starting now.”

“Peggy and I are gonna stick around for a couple of weeks so we can really start to get into this. I know you must have a lot of questions.”

“Making a list already.”

“This is a lot to take in at once and it’s still just an idea. If you want to walk away, we won’t ask again,” Peggy offers.

Carol looks at Maria, waiting for her thoughts. She knows they’re both seriously considering it—Carol is almost through with the Skrulls and they’ve all earned the right to a lifetime of rest. It would be a dream to retire to Louisiana and relax with her family for the rest of their lives.

“Somebody’s gotta do it,” Maria shrugs.

“Doesn’t have to be us.”

“True.” Maria drums her fingers on the table. “But if we want it done right…”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

Steve smiles, leans back in his chair to look at Fury. “You owe me a fancy dinner.”

“Motherfucker.”

/

**iii.**

“Shit, fuck. Maria!”

“Your phone’s out here on the table, Carol.”

“I know it is; I got tangled in the blankets.”

“Did you fall off the bed?”

“Could you just answer it for a second?”

The ringing stops as Maria answers it and Carol starts unwrapping herself. “Hey, Steve,” she hears Maria say. “Carol fell off the bed.”

“All those superpowers and no sense of balance; what a shame.” His laugh is just a little breathier these days.

“Any communication device you have to hold is inefficient,” Carol says as she finally makes it into the dining room, where Maria is completing a crossword puzzle.

“That’s why our robot overlords invented speakerphone, baby,” she says without looking up. Carol harrumphs and kisses the top of her head.

“I’m firing up the grill tonight,” Steve interrupts. “Somewhere around six-ish, if you’re interested.”

Carol pours herself a glass of water and looks expectantly at Maria, who just shrugs.

“You doin’ anything now?” she asks as she takes a sip. “We could be over in half an hour.”

Steve is quiet for a long moment. “That sounds nice,” he finally says.

“Okay, well, we’ll see you soon then.”

“Bring Monica if you want.”

“She’s running a mission somewhere; Belfast, I think. You know Fury.”

Steve chuckles. “I do. Alright, well, I’ll have him fly me out tomorrow. See you soon.”

Carol and Maria share a look as Steve hangs up. “What does he need to go to Belfast for?” Maria asks.

Carol shakes her head. “We should just bring him back here with us. That house is too big for one person.”

“He said he doesn’t want to, Carol.”

“I know. He still shouldn’t be alone. If you—” She swallows back whatever was about to spill out. “I’d want someone to come get me, is all.”

Maria gets up and pinches Carol’s cheeks until she smiles—shaky and watery, but a smile nonetheless. “I’m in it forever the same way you are, Carol, remember?”

“Still getting used to it,” Carol nods.

“I’ll remind you every once in a while. Get dressed and meet me out back when you’re done; I’ll go start the jet.”

Carol sends her off with a wink and a salute she would have been reprimanded for at basic.

.

Steve is waiting for them in the yard when they land. Something about the back of the house looks off, but Carol can’t put a finger on what it is.

“What happened to all the patio furniture?” Maria asks as she powers down the plane.

“_That’s_ what it is!” Carol exclaims. “I knew something was missing.”

Maria throws her a spectacular glare. “Seriously? You knew something was missing but you didn’t know it was six lounge chairs, a table, and a big ass umbrella?”

“I’m telling Steve to burn your burger.”

“Don’t start anything you can’t finish, Danvers.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

The wind gusts in as the landing bay opens, hitting Carol straight in the eye. She squints and raises an arm as she’s brought back to her childhood on the East Coast. To be perfectly honest, the weather was the best part.

“Isn’t it slower to take the jet?” Steve calls out.

“Sure, but the landing’s way more impressive. You moving?” Carol asks as she gives him a hug.

“Something like that, sure. Come on in; you can help me get the food.”

Carol and Maria follow Steve into the house, stopping as soon as they step through the doorway.

“Okay, I have a second question.”

“Shoot.”

“Did you move already?”

Steve laughs and throws a few packs of frozen patties into a cooler. “No.”

“All your stuff’s gone,” Maria points out.

“I know. I didn’t need it anymore. There’s a box of things for you somewhere.”

“For who?” Carol blurts.

“The family, your office, whatever you want to do with it. I can take it with me to the Triskelion if you want; I have to drop by tomorrow.”

“So you can have Fury get you a plane to visit Monica in Northern Ireland.”

Steve nods. “Among other things.” He closes the cooler and gestures for Carol to pick it up.

“Is this a weird coping mechanism?” she asks, lifting it easily with one hand. “Because, you know, Maria’s always here if you want to talk.” (She gets a slap on the shoulder for that).

“I’m fine, Carol. Just taking a trip.”

“To…?”

“The future,” Steve smiles. “Or possibly also the past, depending on how you’re looking at it.”

“Steve—”

“Grab the grill, will you? I want to eat by the lake.”

.

They pack Steve’s car with the food, some wood chips, and the box of stuff he pointed out to them; Carol flies overhead with the grill. It’s a short drive to the lake, and she spends every minute of it wondering if Steve has finally gone somewhere she can’t reach, or if he’s about to. It’s been a hard year and a half without Peggy, but he’s been fine. A little isolated, but fine enough.

“Hey, Rocketman!” Steve yells. “You overshot it!”

Carol stops flying and turns around to see Steve and Maria waiting a few hundred feet behind her. She backtracks and sets the grill down, clapping the soot off of her hands.

“There’s beer in the cooler,” Steve offers.

“We can’t get drunk anymore,” Maria reminds him.

“Neither can I, but I still like the taste.”

Carol flies around until she finds a picnic table and carries it back to where they’ve set up. It’s a little early in the season, the brisk wind deterring anyone else from hoofing it out to the lake. She wouldn’t put it past Steve to have arranged that.

She and Maria sit at the table, waiting for Steve to get the fire going. He certainly takes his time.

“Gonna ask me if I’m crazy?” he says when he finally joins them.

“I mean. I _want_ to,” Carol says.

Steve smiles. “I’m not, I promise. Open up the box.”

Maria hefts it onto the table and pulls back one of the flaps; it isn’t taped up yet. It’s neatly packed and filled to the brim. A framed picture of Peggy, Steve, Bucky, and one other man rests on top.

“Who is that?” Carol asks as Maria pulls it out. “I can’t tell from upside down.”

“Tony’s dad,” Maria answers. “He died a couple years after you crashed.”

“Old age?”

“Heart attack,” Steve corrects. “Tony took it hard. Keep going.”

Maria digs through some more picture frames, a shadow box of medals, a few manila envelopes. She eventually gets to a lump of fabric halfway down. Carol doesn’t recognize the colors but from the texture it looks like a space suit.

“I almost got rid of it as soon as I got here, had a match and some gasoline ready, but I couldn’t bring myself to drop it in.”

“What’s it for?”

“Time travel,” he explains.

Carol’s eyebrows shoot up. “Taking a trip, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“You coming back?”

“Nope.”

Carol leans over the table to pull out the suit. “This is really clean tech,” she says, holding it close to her face. “Who designed this?”

“Mostly Tony, a little bit of Bruce. Hell, even Scott. Mine,” he clarifies when she looks up. “Not yours.”

“Oh, well, obviously. Does it—”

“Oh my god,” Maria murmurs, digging deeper into the box. “We’ve known you for twenty years; where has this been hiding?”

“Not hiding,” Steve explains. “Just kept safe.”

Carol’s eyes widen as Maria pulls out Captain America’s suit, looking exactly like it does in the comics (that she has definitely read), if a little dirtier.

“Holy shit.”

“You can do whatever you want with it; I don’t need it anymore.”

“You’re not taking it with you?”

Steve shakes his head. “It hasn’t been mine for a while. It should stay somewhere someone might need it.”

Carol unfolds it to its full width, hovering a little so she can see the length as well. “Jeez, this used to fit you? We could use it as a picnic blanket.”

“And you tried to tell me you were scrawny,” Maria teases.

“Oh, I was. You should read my S.H.I.E.L.D file sometime; it’s a real page-turner.”

“Steve, this is—” Carol loosely folds the suit back up and sits down again. “You could have talked to us.”

“I’m talking to you now.”

“Yeah, but—”

“You know, Peggy built S.H.I.E.L.D. almost exactly the same without me. She turned it into something legendary and I got to pick up where she left off a few decades later. This world has never needed Captain America; I’m not the linchpin. Hell, even my time did fine without me for almost seventy years.” He slides off the picnic bench and picks up the grilling fork to poke at the fire. “I’ve lived more life than most people. I’ve just got one more little errand to run, that’s all.”

“Hell of an errand,” Carol mumbles. Steve gives her a wink as he walks off to check on the grill.

She puffs out her cheeks and rests her chin on her hand, directing her gaze away from Maria. “This is too fast.”

Maria reaches out to play with Carol’s fingers. “I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner.”

“What, you knew he was just waiting to fire up the ol’ time travel jumpsuit?”

“Obviously not,” Maria laughs. “But a year and a half is a long time to be lonely. If he knows how to make it stop, I think we’ve got to let him go.”

“I can’t—I just got done letting people go, Maria. Steve is supposed to just...be here.” Carol takes a deep breath and swallows past the lump in her throat. “God, I love that asshole.”

“So you better tell him,” Maria gently urges.

“I bet this is Scott’s fault,” Carol grumps. “Hank’s, too. And Bruce. I’m gonna make them invent time travel here so I can follow Steve and beat up the versions of them in his timeline.”

“Bruce might give you a little trouble.”

“I can take him.”

“Okay.”

Carol lays her head down on the crusty table and lets Maria stroke her hair. She closes her eyes and listens to the park—the rustle of the trees, a bird splashing in the water, the sizzle of the burgers as Steve flips them. They’ve grilled here before a bunch of times. She should have listened more. Carol wishes like hell that she’d met Steve when she was a lot younger.

Eventually, the smell of freshly grilled meat is too hard to resist. Carol sits back up and makes herself a burger, zapping it just a little more with her hands to get a crispy edge.

Steve sits down across from her. “Bucky and Fury know what I’m doing if you have any questions,” he says. “Otherwise, I’m going to sit here and enjoy this beautiful day, a delicious meal, and some truly spectacular company.”

Carol sniffles once, then nods. “I think we can help with that.”

They flit in and out of silence for the rest of the day, eventually swapping stories about their respective tours with the military and S.H.I.E.L.D. Carol’s sure Steve is making most of his up, but it’s not like he can fact-check her adventures in space, either.

They pack up after it gets dark, when the temperature takes a decisive turn from brisk to cold. Carol rides in the car this time, balancing the grill on top of the roof. The drive is too short and soon enough they’re back at the empty house. Steve follows them onto the jet, promising that they don’t have to stay; he’ll deal with the remaining stuff when Bucky comes to pick him up tomorrow.

Maria gives him a long hug, whispering something Carol can’t hear. She’s rarely felt worse about leaving someone.

The ache of loss resurfaces just as quickly as it was submerged, held down by lighthearted memories and laughter. Carol has no idea what she’s going to say, or if she can manage to say anything at all.

Steve braces his hands against her shoulders as Carol shoves hers in her pockets. “You’re gonna be okay,” he promises. “I’ve known two versions of you and they’re both doing just fine.”

“I’m just surprised you’re going now, you know,” Carol sniffs. “Who’s gonna teach me how to throw a ball or ride a bike?”

Steve laughs and Carol joins in, loud and loose to cut through the tears. “Gonna miss you, kiddo.”

“Yeah. Me, too.” She holds out her hand. “See you later, Captain Rogers.”

Steve grasps her hand in both of his. “Who knows; maybe in another life.”

Carol doesn’t watch him walk away.

/

**iv.**

They renovate the Triskelion the next year, on the 30th anniversary of when S.H.I.E.L.D. first broke ground. There aren’t too many changes—the offices stay the same and Fury still won’t put in even a few beds, no matter how many agents ask for them. They don’t get bigger labs or more training rooms or fancier gadgets.

But they enlist the Smithsonian to help them build an exhibit on the first floor to showcase the collection of Steve’s mementos that aren’t already in Carol, Maria, or Monica’s offices. They mine S.H.I.E.L.D’s archives for pictures of its earliest facilities, of scientists and innovators in their prime. Bucky’s even up there a few times, despite his persistent objections.

And on the lobby wall above the reception desk, pristine and proud behind a thick pane of glass, Captain America’s uniform hangs next to an olive skirt suit, their sleeves touching at the corners.

**Author's Note:**

> okay, so. let me do a little explaining here. 
> 
> what started out as a four-part series exploring the similarities and friendships between steggy and danbeau has, uhhh, spiraled to say the least. i have plans/outlines for another four multi-chapter stories to flesh out what has now become a "how would the entire infinity arc of the MCU be rewritten in the new timeline that steve created if carol stuck around" AU. it'll probably be radio silence from me until about january because three guesses what my project for nanowrimo is gonna be.
> 
> keeping that in mind i kind of tried to write this as a lead-in to the next fic, even though the next one will jump back in time to the early aughts. i hope everything makes sense and doesn't feel disjointed, and also that you stick around for the rest! and please tell me all of your thoughts either way because i have A Lot that i need to expel
> 
> title from CHVRCHES, lyrics from the crane wives, yadda yadda have a wonderful day :)


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